The Unselfie
by cactusnell
Summary: Molly and Mary go shopping for Valentine's Day. What happens when Mary sends off a picture to Sherlock? Sherlolly


Dr. Molly Hooper and Mrs. Mary Watson were having a girl's day out, something that was a rare occurrence, given the former's busy career, and the later's child-rearing responsibilities. But Valentine's Day was fast approaching, and Mary was determined to get her husband something special for the occasion. Baby Claire had just turned one, and was beginning to take her first steps. And John Watson had put up with quite a bit these past couple of years, what with finding out that his wife was a retired assassin who had shot his best friend and all. She was determined to make it up to him, so their first stop was at Victoria's Secret, where she would search for the perfect wrapping for his Valentine present. And she was determined that Molly was to do some shopping, too. After all, she reasoned, a woman can wear all the baggy trousers and loose fitting jumpers she wanted, if she felt hot and sexy underneath.

The women were already feeling a bit giddy from the few drinks they had at lunch, and the array of sexy lingerie displayed in front of them did nothing to assuage their fit of giggles. Bras and corsets, panties and garter belts, lace and satin of every color lay scattered about on tables and hung along walls. Mary made a selection of a few items to try on, encouraging Molly to do the same.

"Come on, Molls. You only live once. I've seen your underwear before, and I know you're not the granny panty type!"

"Maybe not, but some of these things look like medieval torture devices, Mary. And push-up bras don't really work unless you have something to push up in the first place."

"Yes, well, Claire worked wonders for me in that department. Maybe you should consider getting pregnant!"

"That could definitely become a risk if I were to appear in any of these things…"

"Have anybody in mind, Molls? Beside the usual suspect, I mean."

"Mary, you know I no longer have a love life. Or a sex life. Or barely a life, dammit!"

"Maybe that would change if you made a few purchases, Molly. What man could resist this?" Mary snickered as she held up a black lace number with barely-there matching g-string.

"I can think of one!" Molly laughed in return. "Maybe I just don't have the right equipment. After all, Mrs. Hudson is convinced he's gay."

"Don't even go there. My husband lived with him for a long time, remember? And the tales he's told about the porn sites, heterosexual, I might add, and the extended showers…"

"Porn sites? Then I definitely don't have the right equipment, or at least enough of the right equipment…"

"Your equipment is just fine, Molly Hooper. You just don't know how to package it correctly! Try this!" And Mary shoved a lacy red corset and matching thong in her direction. "Add some black thigh-high stockings, and you'll have a great Valentine's Day!"

"Only if I walk through Trafalgar Square half-naked!"

Mary laughed out loud, but dragged her friend off to the fitting rooms to try on their prospective purchases. While changing in adjoining booths Mary called out, "Molly, if you really don't have any plans, how about babysitting for Claire on Valentine's Day? John and I would love to have some alone time, you know?"

"Sure, Mary. Maybe sometime in the far, far distant future you can return the favor!" Molly sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad, actually. The underwire push-up bra did wonders for her "small" breasts, as Sherlock had called them. The corset itself had peek-a-boo cutouts interspersed in the lace, with boning that accented her slender waist nicely. The thong did very little more than cover her essential parts, with small accents of glitter and sequins. _ Not bad, at all_, she thought.

"So, let's see!" Mary called out from the next booth.

"You're kidding!"

"Come on, luv. I'll show you mine if you show me yours!" Mary Watson giggled in reply. And then they both stepped out into the fitting room parlor. Mary stood there in a slinky black negligee which did little to cover the barely there teddy underneath. Molly could certainly see the effect young Claire had had on her figure! Mary was now fiddling with her decolletage, remarking, "I may have to keep having kids if John grows too accustomed to these things!" She then looked at Molly, and said with a small whistle, "Where have you been hiding that body, kiddoo? That's the best kept secret in the U.K.!"

Molly was blushing furiously, and started to splutter, "My breasts are too small, my hips are barely there, and my bum…"

"Please tell me that you are not leaving the store without that outfit!"

"I don't know, Mary. It's not exactly my style. And a waste of good money, to boot. Who's going to see me in it, besides me?" Just then, Molly's phone signalled an incoming text.

WHERE ARE YOU? - SHERLOCK

SHOPPING WITH MARY - MOLLY

PLEASE DON'T BUY ANY JUMPERS. YOU HAVE QUITE ENOUGH ALREADY. - SHERLOCK

Molly looked down at her current attire, as she typed.

I AM NOT CURRENTLY SHOPPING FOR JUMPERS, SO YOU CAN REST EASY - MOLLY

HAVE YOU ANY SPARE TOES? - SHERLOCK

NOT ON ME RIGHT NOW. COME TO THE LAB TOMORROW AND I'LL SEE WHAT I CAN DIG UP (NOT LITERALLY). BY THE WAY, I HAVE VOLUNTEERED TO BABYSIT CLAIRE ON VALENTINE'S DAY. CARE TO JOIN ME? - MOLLY

Molly knew that Sherlock never turned down an opportunity to spend time with his goddaughter. She handed her mobile to Mary, so that she could read the exchange, which she did. But another thought was occurring to Mary Watson.

"So, are you buying it, or not?"

"I don't know…"

"Well," Mary said, still holding onto Molly's mobile, "Let's take a selfie so you won't forget how great you look!" And, after persuading Molly to strike a humorously seductive pose, Mary snapped a photo.

"Oh, what the hell! I'll call it a Valentine's present to myself." Molly snickered as she looked once again in the mirror. "I do look damn good!" Both she and Mary decided to purchase the outfits and returned to the respective booths, but not before Mary had surreptitiously sent the photo on Molly's mobile off to one consulting detective.

Sherlock Holmes had been sitting in his favorite chair in his flat on Baker Street, listening to his best friend John Watson complain about the lack of snacks, when he decided to text Molly Hooper a request for toes. His desire for toes was certainly no emergency, but he had grown a bit weary of John's stomach growling, and was looking for a distraction. He had received what he had considered a promise of no new jumpers today, with the possibility of a toe bonanza on the morrow, and a request to assist her in babysitting their godchild. He was about to reply in the affirmative, when a picture was delivered to his mobile. A picture which he viewed with some consternation, and, he must admit, quite a bit of interest. For there stood his pathologist in the loveliest red lace concoction he had seen this side of John Watson's favorite porn site. He had to admit to a change of opinion about her breasts. They were, indeed, not too small at all. They fit in perfectly with her narrow waist and her gently flaring hips. And, he must admit, her legs, encased as they were in black thigh-high stockings, looked much longer from this angle. He was still staring when John cleared his throat for the third time.

"Something interesting, mate?" John asked, looking over his shoulder.

"You could say that, John." Sherlock then let him read the exchange of texts which preceded the photo.

"So, how long has this been going on, chum?"

"What, John. Do be more concise!"

"How long has Molly Hooper been sending you sexy selfies, to be concise?"

"About one minute and forty-five seconds, give or take, John."

"Yes, well, then, that is interesting, Sherlock." John coughed self-consciously. "She's shopping with my Mary, you know. I hope my wife's purchases are along the same lines."

"To each his own, John. But, more importantly, what should I do?"

"Well, to be clear, Sherlock, all she really asked was if you wanted to babysit my daughter with her. I doubt whether she will be wearing that outfit then. Or, at least I hope not. I would like to think that my child would at least be able to capture your attention for to some extent."

"Advice, John, please! How should I answer her. If I say 'yes', will she expect much more than a babysitting companion. If I say 'no', will she be insulted? I'm not good at this sort of thing, you know."

"Really, Sherlock, I would never have guessed." Sherlock had no reaction to this remark, as he never seemed to understand sarcasm directed at himself. "Look, mate, you've known the woman for seven years. You should know by this time if you're interested…"

"Of course I'm interested, John. Look at the woman. She's lovely. She's intelligent…"

"Oh, yes, I can see by the intelligent look in her eyes as she strikes that pose…"

"She tolerates me…"

"She more than tolerates you, you git. And you know it! You'd better answer her. Just tell her that you'll join her at her flat for the babysitting gig, and let things develop from there. This is Molly we're talking about, after all. She's not likely to attack you…"

"I suppose not…"

"You sound a bit disappointed, Sherlock. Look on the bright side, maybe she will attack you. Do you intend to fight her off?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Well, let me know when you decide, mate!"

"You'll be the first, no, possibly the second to know, John." Sherlock spoke quietly, with not some small amount of confusion, and finally texted Molly his affirmative response.

Valentine's Day came a scant two days later. John and Mary Watson were to drop off Claire, and all her necessary accoutrements, at Molly's flat. As Mary set up the portable cot in Molly's spare room, John looked at the pathologist with a smirk. "So, Molly, what's new?"

Molly was currently bouncing Claire on her lap, but looked over to see the strange expression on her friend's face. "What's up, John?"

"Nothing, Nothing at all. And you shouldn't feel at all uneasy about me seeing that photo you sent to Sherlock. After all, I'm a married man. I've seen plenty…"

Molly's eyes widened as the penny dropped, and she screamed "Mary Watson, get out here right now!" Mary appeared as the soul of innocence when she returned to the sitting room. "Yes, Molly? Is there a problem?"

"You sent that photo to Sherlock? The one in the fitting room?"

"Well, Molly, you did say it would be a waste of money if no one got to see you in it, after all. I was doing you a favor!"

"You didn't send it into general circulation, did you? Nobody else, right?" Molly was now distracted by the gales of laughter coming from one John Watson. "Stop laughing, John. This isn't in the least bit funny!"

"You would think so had you seen the look on the git's face when he got that picture! He turned redder than the lace covering your..uh.. ah..your bits and pieces, Molly. I'll bet as soon as I left, the idiot headed straight for a cold shower! He's so nervous about what you intend to do tonight, or not to do, I only gave him a fifty percent chance of actually showing up!" Just then there was a knock at the door. "Well, I'll give him credit for showing some courage," John said in conclusion, trying to control his laughter, while everyone else struggled to maintain their own composure.

John and Mary made their exit as Sherlock made his entrance, all parties interested in where the evening would lead. Sherlock immediately took over care of the toddler, remarking, "She looks tired, Molly. When should we put her down for the night?"

"Good heavens, Sherlock, she just got here! Let me enjoy her for a little while. Anyway, she's due one more feeding before bedtime. In about thirty minutes, or so."

"Are you sure. She looks hungry now," the detective maintained as the child gurgled happily on his lap. "And she appears to be getting increasingly cranky. Probably from fatigue." Claire giggled joyously.

"Sherlock, she's not hungry yet, and she's not at all tired. If you're bored with her, you don't have to stay. I can certainly handle her myself."

"Molly, really, I never get bored with Claire! I'm very fond of her. Perhaps it's just that I can sense her moods better than you can…"

"Sherlock Holmes, does this rather strange behavior have anything to do with a certain picture…"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dr. Hooper." Sherlock added her title to help him to picture her in her oversized white lab coat, rather than the skimpy and sexy outfit she was currently wearing in his imagination.

"Oh, for god's sake, Sherlock. I didn't send it. Mary did. Her idea of a joke. She gets some kind of perverse pleasure from pushing my buttons…"

Sherlock looked just a little bit deflated. "I know what you mean, Molly. She often does the same to me. Of course, I knew it had to be something like that. I should have guessed right away, as I did know you were shopping with Mary that afternoon…"

"Yes, and I didn't buy a single new jumper, you git!"

"Thank you for that, Molly. My eyes are still recovering from your most recent purchases…"

They both laughed comfortably, and settled back on the couch to amuse the baby, as well as themselves. By the time Claire had been fed and changed almost two hours had passed, and the toddler was almost falling asleep in Uncle Sherlock's arms. They carried her into the spare room, and Molly sang a soft lullaby until the child was dozing peacefully. The adults then adjourned to the sitting room, to surf through channels on the telly.

"So, Molly, John was concerned that his wife's purchases may not have come up to your standards."

"He needn't have worried. Mary looked really enticing in her black negligee. I think John is going to have a very enjoyable evening."

"Ahh! Does that mean that you did, indeed, purchase that lovely little ensemble, Molly?" Sherlock smirked.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I did."

"Are you wearing it tonight, by any chance?"

"Once again, Sherlock, that is none of your business. Perhaps I'm saving it for a special occasion."

"It is Valentine's Day, Molly, unless you've forgotten. Some people would consider that a special occasion." Sherlock was still sitting next to her on the couch, but seemed to have moved ever so slightly closer. "I wonder what John and Mary are getting up to at this moment?", he then mused as he quietly put one arm around her. Molly then felt her blouse being moved ever so gently from her shoulder.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Trying to satisfy my curiosity, among other things." He smiled slightly as a red satin strap appeared, revealed by his rearranging of her clothing. "Ahh! I see you are wearing it, Molly."

"Yes, I'm wearing it. Curiosity satisfied?"

"Only to some small degree, Molly. I'm now wondering how that red lace looks in person, and not in the harsh lights of a fitting room, per se, but perhaps the softer lighting found in a bedroom. And I am very curious about the texture of the fabric. And the texture of your skin peeking through those alluring cutouts…" His voice was becoming muffled due to the position of his lips on her neck. And the fact that his breathing was becoming more strained as his arms went around her to rest on her hips and pull her closer. Molly was trying to think of a clever comeback when she was immediately silenced as his mouth closed on hers, and her fingers traveled, without any conscious thought, to his dark curls.

"Oh, god, Sherlock, what are we doing?" Molly finally managed to gasp when they were forced to break for air.

"I would have thought that was fairly obvious, Molly. However, if we could adjourn to the bedroom, I think I could clarify the matter even further."

"But Claire…"

"Claire is fine, love. Mary has informed me that she has been sleeping through the night for months now. Perhaps, though, we should try to be a bit on the quiet side…"

"I can make no promises, Sherlock," Molly moaned as the detective once again nuzzled her neck and bit her ear.

"Come on now, Molly. I really am eager to see your Valentine's present to yourself. And me, as it turns out! And maybe by this time next year, the Watsons will be returning the favor!"


End file.
